


Rarely a Quiet Day

by takethisnight_wrapitaroundme



Category: Blindspot (TV)
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 09:52:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12814974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takethisnight_wrapitaroundme/pseuds/takethisnight_wrapitaroundme
Summary: Jane plays hooky from the FBI, unfortunately without much success.





	Rarely a Quiet Day

**Author's Note:**

> Look who took a tiny, silly idea and over-wrote again. To the four people out there who might actually get to the end of this, please enjoy! x)

* * *

It was just after nine-thirty when Kurt walked out of his office and into the bullpen to start the regular morning debrief. He called everyone together and began to list the agenda for the day before he realized what was wrong. Only three-fourths of his team stood around him.

"Where's Jane?"

Tasha and Reade shrugged; Patterson still had her eyes on her tablet.

"Is anyone going to answer me? It's nine-thirty. Who's seen her this morning?"

"Not me," three voices chorused back at him.

"She said yesterday she wasn't feeling well," Patterson added, glancing up from her screen. "Maybe she's home sick?"

Kurt frowned. "She's never taken a sick day in all the time she's worked here."

Tasha laughed. "In her defense, that's barely been a year. Let the woman have a sick day. Maybe she just forgot to call. Maybe she's too busy puking to call."

"Or maybe she finally got tired of us," Reade offered. "Wouldn't be surprised. It's about time."

"Speak for yourself," Patterson replied. "Nobody ever gets tired of  _me_."

Still focused on her tablet, she didn't see the other three roll their eyes.

"Well, wherever she is, whatever she's feeling, one of you check in with her after we break," Kurt instructed. "For now, we've got a new lead to follow up on—and for once it's something not related to Jane's tattoos." He gestured to Patterson to move forward so they could all see what she was looking at. "I'm sure all of you remember the Fuller brothers. Apparently they were spotted upstate."

* * *

Jane did not want to wake up. She could feel his mouth against the tops of her thighs, his lips soft and warm as they kissed her skin, and she did not want to let go of this feeling. She turned her head into the pillow, moaning softly as she pushed herself closer to him.

"Don't stop," she mumbled. She could feel his breath, warm against her legs. She spread them wider. "Keep going."

She felt him shift, drawing his tongue along the interior of her thighs now, making her shiver and groan. God, she loved dreams like this. She could still remember a time when dreams were all she'd had of him. That felt like so long ago now.

She murmured in appreciation when she felt his hands move, first to her hips, then sliding over her stomach to push up her shirt. She tried to help him, tried to pull her tank top over her head, but her arms felt like lead. It was much easier to just lie back and let him do all the work.

"Lazy this morning, are we?" His laugher was hot between her legs and it made her whine. "Look what a few hours of vacation have done to you. I gotta get you out of Fed Plaza more often; I haven't seen you wake up after dawn in years."

"Mm?" She frowned a little as her rational mind clawed for purchase, searching for reason even as the rest of her prayed for the nonsensical dream to go on and on.  _Vacation…_ His words weren't making any sense—the two of them didn't  _take_ vacations—but it didn't matter now. She had been thinking too hard; she could feel wakefulness coming, and with it, another day at work.

She groaned unhappily, keeping her eyes shut to block out reality, if only for a moment more. She knew he wasn't really between her legs, but she did hope he was at least still beside her in bed. She always hated waking up without him; it was even worse than going to sleep without him.

When she finally did open her eyes, she didn't understand what she was seeing. She blinked, hard, but the vision didn't go away. Oscar was right there, lying on the bed in front of her, his hands resting lightly on her spread thighs.

He smiled when their eyes met. "Morning, Janie."

"Morning," she mumbled, wiping the sleep from her eyes. "What…"

She started to ask what time it was, only to find herself wondering instead  _where_ she was. Because the bed she was lying in was not her own, and it sure wasn't Oscar's. The room around them was like nothing she'd ever seen: it was large and wood-paneled, nicely decorated. There was a rocking chair in the corner, a large armoire at the far end of the room, and a half-opened door that looked like it led to the bathroom.

When she looked back at Oscar, he was smiling, seeming to understand the confusion on her face.

"You fell asleep a couple hours into the drive up last night," he explained. "I had to carry you up here; I think the receptionist was worried I might've drugged you." He frowned. "Don't know what it says about this place that she didn't lift a finger to stop me."

"The receptionist…" Jane could feel things sliding into place.  _Look what a few hours of vacation have done to you…_  She sat up sharply in bed, her face splitting in a huge grin. "We're  _here_?" she cried excitedly.

He chuckled, nodding his head. He pressed a kiss to the top of her left thigh. "Got in last night around three AM. You were out for most of the drive."

Jane frowned, reaching down for one of his hands. She tugged on it reproachfully. "You should've woken me up. You shouldn't have driven through the night all by yourself like that."

"I didn't mind. Plus, the destination was worth it."

She looked down at him, still situated between her legs, and she found herself incapable of disagreeing. "It definitely was," she agreed, lying back against the pillows once more and sliding a little further down the mattress towards him.

He grinned at the blatant hint, and bent his head to her again. He started slow once more, and she sighed, letting him tease her for a while with soft kisses and slow touches until she'd finally had enough of waiting. She shoved off her underwear and hooked her calves over his shoulders, bending her knees to pull him closer. He obliged her without question, trading one type of determination for another as he worked her quickly into a frenzy, let her linger for a while, and then drove her back to the edge. By the time she came, panting, she was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and she knew the reason why: he had always been very partial to the two of them sharing showers. And what better way to start vacation?

When she had some strength back in her legs, she wrapped them around his back once more and pulled, wanting him closer to her. He complied, moving up to join her at the head of the bed, and pulling her into his arms as he did so. She sighed as she rested against him, enjoying the familiar warmth of his body against hers.

She kissed him slowly on the lips, a good-morning and a thank-you. She could taste herself on his tongue and she didn't pull back for many minutes.

When she did, she was smiling, tracing the outline of his face with her fingertips. "I thought you were a dream at first," she confessed, stroking his cheek with her thumb.

"Wouldn't be the first time."

She closed her eyes, breathing him in deep. Her arms tightened around him, and for a few seconds, she held him close, making sure he was real. Then she relaxed her grip, but she did not let go. Nor did he.

"I'll pay you back in a minute, okay?" she whispered, kissing his chest. "I just need to catch my breath."

He shook his head, skimming his hands over her back. "Don't worry about it, baby. I'm fine right here as I am."

She smiled again, cuddling closer. "So am I."

* * *

It was after eleven AM by the time they finally finished showering and dressing. They'd missed the breakfast part of the bed and breakfast experience, but the in-room guidebook assured them that lunch was served promptly at twelve-thirty.

That gave them and hour and a half to kill, and not many ideas with which to kill it. The one thing Jane wanted to do—go out for a hike to the lake—would take considerably longer than an hour and a half. Oscar suggested going downstairs to lounge in the sitting room and maybe meet the other guests, but Jane balked at the mention of socializing.

"Oh come on," he coaxed. "It's half the point of staying at a B&B, you know. You're  _supposed_ to make friends with the other guests."

"Well, I'm not very good at making friends," Jane muttered, taking a seat on the bed. Without thinking, she crossed her arms, rubbing her hands over her biceps as if she were cold. But it was warm in the room, and below the sleeves of her t-shirt, her tattoos were very much visible.

Oscar watched her carefully, his eyes following her hands as they unconsciously went about trying to cover as much of her tattooed skin as they could. He knew she didn't truly mind the tattoos herself. The problem was what other people saw, and the way they saw it. The problem was the stares and the muttered comments and the general air of disapproval that they surrounded her with.

Slowly, Oscar made his way over to the bed and sat beside her. He reached out, prying one of her hands away and holding it gently in his. She looked up at the touch, realizing too late what she'd been doing. She looked down, embarrassed. But she didn't pull her hand from his.

"What did the receptionist say last night?" she whispered.

"Hm?"

"I was wearing a pair of shorts and a tank top in the car. What did the receptionist say when she saw you carrying in a woman covered head to toe in tattoos?"

"She didn't say anything," Oscar replied. It was the truth. But so was this: "She just stared."

Jane nodded her head, staring down at her feet as they dangled over the edge of the bed. She'd gone with jeans today, and lace-up sneakers. Not a bit of her inked skin showed beneath her waist, but he knew she could see the tattoos even when they were covered up. He could, too.

"We don't need to go downstairs just now if you don't want to," he told her, trying to compromise. "We can stay in here until lunch. Hell—" He nudged her shoulder, a suggestive smile pulling at his lips. "—we can stay in here all day. This weekend is about you and me. So just tell me what you want to do."

She smiled back, and rested her head against his shoulder. "I  _would_  like to stay in here all day," she confessed. "I want nothing more than that, to hide up here with you and forget about everyone else." She took a breath. "But we've been doing that for months. And you're right, the point of being here is to socialize. The point of this trip is to be normal people, to be a normal couple." She lifted her head and then got to her feet, tugging him with her. "So come on. Let's go be normal."

* * *

"No word yet?"

Patterson looked up from her computer, spotting Kurt as he stepped into the lab. She shook her head at him, knowing what he was asking after. There had been no sighting of their suspects yet since the lead they'd first gotten word of this morning.

"The locals have put up checkpoints outside Rochester, but Robbie and Darren are either laying low or they've slipped the net. We've alerted stations in the surrounding counties just in case, but I don't know how much will come of it. Either way, it's all about waiting now…"

Kurt nodded, loitering at the edge of her desk. Patterson glanced over at him curiously. It wasn't like him to loiter here. It wasn't like him to be idle at all.

"You acting weird today," she told him.

He looked up abruptly, as if he'd forgotten she was there. "I'm fine," he replied at once. He lifted a hand to scratch at his beard. A casual motion to some, but Patterson knew it was a nervous tic for him. She waited it out, feigning interest in her computer.

"I'm worried about Jane," he confessed finally, as Patterson knew he would. "It's not like her not to show up to work. And I know you said she wasn't feeling well yesterday, but… It isn't like her to stay out of contact, either. I thought she would've called by now. Sent a text, at least. Something. But there's been nothing."

"Maybe you should go check on her," Patterson suggested. "It shouldn't you take too long to get to Brooklyn and back at this hour."

Kurt frowned. "What, you want me to drive over to her place unannounced? I can't just barge into her apartment, Patterson. Especially not when she's sick. She probably doesn't want people around."

"Maybe not most people," Patterson agreed, "but we all know you're different to her. And if I were Jane, I couldn't think of anyone else I'd rather want barging into my sickroom. Well—myself excluded, of course."

"Of course," Kurt echoed dryly, but she caught the look on his face out of the corner of her eye. It didn't surprise her when, the next time she looked up from her computer, he was heading to the door.

* * *

"So," the old woman began, setting aside her tea as she turned to Oscar with a polite smile, "how long have you and your wife been together?"

Oscar had been in the middle of taking a sip of coffee when the woman began speaking, and he was choking on it before she'd even finished. She had to reach over and hit him—very hard—on the back to get his airway clear again.

"Sorry," he gasped, trying to regulate his breathing. "Wrong pipe." The coffee hadn't been overly hot, but his esophagus felt like it was on fire. He blinked quickly to do away with the burning in his eyes.

"From your reaction, I'm going to say it's safe to assume that the lovely woman you came with isn't, in fact, your wife?"

Oscar smiled briefly at the term "lovely." The woman he was talking to looked to be no younger than seventy years old. He hadn't expected someone her age to be so accepting of Jane's tattoos. It was a nice surprise. He filed it away to share with Jane later.

"No," he answered. "She's not my wife."

The woman took up her tea again, this time with a soft cluck. "I should've known, I suppose." She nodded at his bare hands. "No ring."

"No ring," he echoed with a nod. He resisted the urge to reach up to rub his neck. The interior of his throat still hurt. He prayed Jane would bring some sort of cold drink with her when she got back from the front room.

"Well, my question remains regardless. Assuming the woman you came downstairs with is your girlfriend—" She paused, waiting for Oscar to nod. "—how long have you two been together?"

"Oh, you know…" He did a brief risk assessment in his mind, wondering which half-truth to go with. He could hold himself to the metric of Jane's second life, and say they had been together just over half a year. Or he could open a very confusing but very honest can of worms and tell her seven years.

He opened his mouth to take the easy route and say six months, but something about the look on the old woman's face made him pause. She looked interested in what he had to say—truly interested—and he couldn't imagine why. He'd never seen her before. He would bet Jane had never seen her before. She was just an old woman who'd sat down in the armchair beside his and she'd started talking to him.

He remembered his own advice to Jane earlier in the day about making friends, and her consequent determination to step outside of her comfort zone. She was doing well, it seemed: he hadn't seen her since she'd left for the front room nearly ten minutes ago. Every now and again, he could hear her laugh quietly, so she must've met someone friendly and got to talking. That was a big step for her. He could take this step, too.

Besides, it wasn't as if they'd ever see this woman again after this weekend. The risk of repercussions was low.

"We've been officially together a little over six months," Oscar told the old woman sitting next to him. "But she and I have known each other for a long time. Almost seven years, now."

"Ah." The woman smiled knowingly and bent forward in her chair. "So tell me, which one of you took the most convincing to give it a real shot?"

Oscar smiled himself, shaking his head as he folded his hands together. He hadn't thought of their early days in a long time. He'd had other, newer early days to focus on.

"She took some persuading at the start," he admitted, thinking back to the time before the wipe, and the way they'd danced around each other for months after they'd first met. They'd been so stupid then, so wasteful. So young. "But it was me that really needed to be convinced that it could actually work between us."

The woman's eyes dipped down to his hands. "Commitment-shy, are you?" she teased. "Too scared to take the leap?"

He shook his head. "No, not me." Despite his raw throat, he smiled. "At least not anymore."

* * *

All the curtains were drawn when Kurt got to Jane's apartment, but that wasn't unusual. She lived at street level; closed curtains were necessary if one wanted to have any semblance of a private life. And Jane, more than anyone Kurt knew, deserved to have a private life.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, hesitating at the top of her stoop just as he'd hesitated inside his car five minutes ago. What was he doing, showing up at her place like this? Clearly she needed a day off from work. Be it because she was sick, or because she was just exhausted, she deserved to spend today in peace.

But…

There was always a  _but_ in his mind. It's what made him a good investigator. He never took the given story at face value; he never looked at a crime scene from only one angle.  _But, but, but…_

Maybe she was simply home sick. Or maybe she was in some sort of trouble.

There was only one way to find out.

Before he could lose his nerve, Kurt lifted a fist and knocked once, then twice, on her door. He waited. No answer. No discernible movement from inside. He glanced behind him, peering up and down the street as if he might spot her on her way home. Then he faced forward and knocked again, louder this time. Loud enough that she couldn't miss it, even if she was out-of-her-head sick. Again, there was no response.

He took his phone out and dialed her number, pressing his ear to her door as it rang. He knew better than to expect anything at this point, but still, the silence on the other end of the line, and on the other side of the door, worried him. He hung up without leaving a message (he'd already left two today), and he put his phone back in his pocket. His fingers brushed against his key ring as he did so, and he remembered all at once that he still had a key to her apartment.

It was a holdover from the early days, an emergency measure that, unfortunately, had been necessary in the past. And it might be necessary again, since she'd asked her detail to be dismissed months ago. He ran his fingers against the key, toying with the idea.  _But what if…_

 _No,_  he told himself this time. If she wasn't at home, she wasn't at home. It wasn't a crime. She was likely at the pharmacy, or maybe even at the doctor's. Or maybe she'd just shut off her phone and burrowed herself in her bed to sleep off whatever was bothering her.

They were all believable explanations, and yet he believed none of them. But he went back to work as if he did. There was nothing else to do for now.

* * *

By the time Oscar finished talking to the old woman in the sitting room—her name was Theresa Liddle, Oscar discovered when they said their goodbyes—Jane still hadn't made an appearance. Knowing lunch would be served soon, he headed towards the front room in search of her. He found her standing by the windows, deep in conversation with, of all people, a couple of college-age young women. They were comparing tattoos.

Oscar slowed to a stop when he saw them and lingered in the small hallway between rooms, out of sight. The last thing he wanted to do was interrupt Jane when she was managing to bond with strangers—but he couldn't keep himself from eavesdropping a little.

"I'm a sucker for geometric patterns," one of the girls was saying, "so I think I have to say my favorite is your right hand. I just love how precise it is, how each hexagon lines up so well with your knuckles. But really, they're all fantastic. I mean, the  _layering_ …" She sighed appreciatively. "It's unreal. It must've taken  _ages_ to finish."

"Must've cost you a fortune, too," the other girl put in wistfully.

Jane laughed a little, nervous, but played it off well. "Everyone spends money on stupid things. Plenty of people spend a lot more money on even stupider things."

"Too true," the first girl agreed.

"Unfortunately," the second nodded.

For a moment, conversation lagged, and Oscar peered around the doorway. The first girl was holding Jane's right hand delicately, inspecting the hexagonal pattern up close. The second was shifting from side to side, inspecting some of Jane's other visible tattoos.

"What about you?" Jane asked finally, addressing the second girl. "Is there one you like?"

"Plenty," she answered at once. "But there's one I just  _love_ …" She lifted her hand, pointing to the left side of Jane's neck.

Jane smiled, lifting a hand to touch her neck. "I love that one too." She brushed her fingertips blindly yet precisely against the wingspan of the largest bird inked there. She knew its location from memory: from all the nights she'd spent studying her own reflection in the mirror, and the days she'd spent studying the printed-out scans of herself at the Bureau. And from all the time Oscar spent touching it and kissing it when they were alone together.

His throat hurt again, but it wasn't the coffee this time.

"It's my favorite, actually," Jane continued quietly, and Oscar closed his eyes. He leaned back against the wall, further out of sight. He couldn't quite catch his breath, but nor did he want to. She had never told him this before. He usually avoided the topic of her tattoos. He knew she was sensitive about them sometimes and he didn't like reminding her of the things she'd been forced to endure to end up here.

He had never dared believe that she might have a favorite out of  _any_ of the tattoos, let alone that her favorite would be the one tattoo that meant so much to him.

"It's so beautiful," the first girl was saying. "Did you design it yourself?"

"No," Jane answered. "My boyfriend designed it for me, actually."

"Really?" the girls asked together. And then, one rushing over the other to get details: "Does he take commissions? What's his rate? Does he work in color?"

Jane laughed at the sudden burst of attention. "Look, I don't have the answers to any of those questions, but I'm sure he'd be happy to talk to you. He's got to be around here somewhere…"

"What's he look like?" the second girl asked, relentless.

"He's tall. Brown hair—a lot of it. Little bit of a beard. He's wearing jeans and—"

"Wait," the first girl interrupted, her voice rising. "You mean the guy in the red shirt?  _He's_ your boyfriend?"

"Yes." Jane's voice was wary now. "Why?"

"Well—"

There was laughter. Or, more accurately, there was giggling.

" _What_?" Jane demanded, impatient now.

"Nothing, it's just—"

"I mean, have you  _looked_ at him recently?"

"Yes, just an hour ago…" Jane sounded lost. "Why? Is there something wrong with his face?"

The girls dissolved into laughter, and Oscar couldn't help it; he had to bite his tongue so he wouldn't laugh, too.

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with his face," the first girl replied, having finally caught her breath. "It is a very nice face. A  _really_ nice face."

"A  _perfect_ face."

There was silence for a moment, and then another burst of giggling.

"Wait, wait, wait—" One of the girls was fighting her own amusement, reaching out to Jane. "You  _will_  introduce us, right?"

"But not now," the first girl rushed to say. "Maybe at dinner?"

"Good idea," the other murmured. "I need to change; my ass looks awful in these pants."

"At least you bothered to do your hair this morning! I thought this place would be full of old people; I didn't even try."

They bickered back and forth for a minute before they realized they'd never gotten an answer.

"So?" the girls pressed Jane. "You'll introduce us?"

"Depends."

"On what?" They were eager, too eager. Even from the other room, Oscar could sense the trap closing. He couldn't help but smile in anticipation. "What does it depend on?"

"On whether or not you're going to start hitting on my boyfriend in front of me."

"Well…" One of the girls hesitated. "Would you really blame us if we did?"

There was a beat of silence, and then all three of them burst out laughing.

Oscar figured he wouldn't find an easier entrance, so he stepped out of the hallway and into the front room. They were all so busy laughing that they didn't notice him at first. He managed to slip up behind Jane and wrap an arm around her waist before she'd so much as looked over.

"What's so funny?" he wondered. And then, before she could answer, he bent down and kissed her on the mouth. He kissed her so long that there was silence at first, and then more giggling from the girls.

When he pulled back, Jane was grinning, holding onto the collar of his shirt, and he could read the look on her face as clearly as if she'd said it aloud:  _Kiss me again_.

So he did.

* * *

They didn't end up making it back to their room that day until well after midnight. They spent the entire afternoon out hiking to the lake and back, and by the time they returned to the B&B, it was dinnertime. They hadn't intended to stay long after dinner, but they got roped into conversation, first with Gina and Maria, the two college seniors, and then with Theresa Liddle and her husband, who seemed more interested in Oscar's tattoos than Jane's. He recognized the emblem of the Marines on Oscar's right arm, and they got to talking. Mr. Liddle was a Navy vet, but he'd had a number of good friends who'd been in the Marines. He seemed eager to compare war stories, and didn't let go of the subject easily.

Jane sat quiet through it all, and whenever Oscar attempted to shift the conversation back towards something she could speak about, she gently steered them back to the military. She held his hand all the while, and he was grateful for it. Grateful for her beside him, and for the opportunity she gave him to keep at least some of his past alive. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been able to talk about his time in the Marines in public.

Later, after they'd begged off from drinking games with Gina and Maria, they made their way slowly to their room on the second floor. Their feet were both dragging after the four-hour hike they'd taken to the lake today, but it had been worth it. The view had been incredible, and as much as Oscar had enjoyed taking it in himself, it was nothing compared to watching Jane's face. Sometimes he forgot just how long she'd been stuck in the city, and how little she knew of the world outside of it. It was wonderful to see her in the midst of nature, smiling and free from worry.

She looked much the same now, he thought as he watched her undress and climb into bed with him. She didn't bother covering her nakedness with pajamas, and neither had he. They were tired, their muscles aching from the hike, but that didn't matter. They always found strength enough for this.

They went slow at first, and kept quiet. They were more than aware of the late hour, and all the guests in the house around them, and the last thing they wanted to do was disturb anyone. They kept their voices to whispers, their moans low. Even so, they knew what they were doing couldn't be hidden, and after a while, they stopped caring. They focused instead on each other, and forgot entirely about the wider world around them.

* * *

When Jane woke sometime later, her mouth was dry. She blinked her eyes open, yawning, and saw that it was still dark out. Oscar was fast asleep beside her, lying on his stomach, his head turned towards her. She watched his face for a moment, wondering if he was dreaming. She knew his dreams used to haunt him, in the weeks and months before and after she left him. She bent over and kissed his forehead softly. She hoped he had better dreams now that they were together. She knew she did.

Careful not to wake him, she eased herself out of bed and made her way towards the bathroom. She relieved herself and then grabbed a glass from beside the sink, filling it with tap water to do away with her dry mouth. She swallowed some, and carried the rest back to bed, knowing she'd need it later if she woke up again.

She was almost to the bed when she noticed the light. It was a dull white glow, half-obscured, coming from somewhere below the bedside table. She peered at the light, tilting her head to the side to get a better look, only to watch it disappear into blackness.

She set the glass on the table and bent down, feeling around in the dark. She realized after a second that the darker-than-dark shape she was touching was her purse. The thing that had been lighting up was her cell phone. She picked it up.

She stared at the screen for a second, unable to comprehend what she was seeing. She had never seen so many notifications: phone calls, voicemails, texts, emails. It looked like every person she knew—apart from Assistant Director Mayfair and Oscar—had tried to contact her. There was even a call from her doctor.

Her  _doctor_.

It took a second for that to sink in, for her to remember what she'd apparently forgotten.

The next second she was leaping over the bed, punching Oscar back into consciousness.

* * *

He was not happy with her for the violent wake-up call, but neither was she happy with him, so at least they were still on the same page. They kept their shouts to whispers, yelling softly across the dark expanse of their rented bedroom.

"I can't believe you!" she hissed, pacing furiously across the hardwood floor. "I can't  _believe_  you let me sleep that late yesterday! This is all your fault!"

"You were tired!" he shot back, his voice barely louder than hers but just as indignant. He followed in the wake of her pacing, trying to insert some sense into her panicked brain. "You'd spent the whole day before in the field, you were drained, I just thought—"

"You thought you'd raise a whole host of red flags with the Bureau, apparently!" Not for the first time, she shoved her phone in his face. "Look at this! Look at all the people who called me!"

"It was one day, Jane—"

"Exactly! And look how crazy everyone went!"

"It's not that big of a deal," he assured her. "All you need to do is call one of them and say you're sick. That was always the plan, remember? Just do it retroactively now. Apologize for forgetting to call in, for not responding to all the messages. Just say your phone died Thursday night and you were too sick when you woke up on Friday to look for the charger."

"That's a stupid story," she muttered angrily, but right then she couldn't think of anything better. She scrolled through her calls and messages, looking for the most recent one. It was from Kurt.

Of course it was. He had called and texted and left more voicemails than anyone else. She felt her insides twist with guilt as she scrolled through all the messages he'd left her.

Then she shoved the phone at Oscar.

"You do it."

"Oh Jane, come on—"

"You're the one who let me sleep in and made me forget to call;  _you_  text him your stupid explanation."

Oscar groaned, but eventually gave in. He muttered something about her acting like a child, but she ignored him. She would act as juvenile as possible if it meant he would talk to Kurt for her. She couldn't lie to him. She'd been doing it for far too long, and each time made her feel worse.

"There," Oscar said after a moment, brandishing the screen in her face. "Done. Happy now?"

Jane peered at the message, then frowned up at him. "You did it wrong."

"Did  _what_  wrong?" He looked at the screen again, exasperated, and read aloud: " _Hi, Kurt, sorry I didn't call back. I was really sick yesterday and couldn't find my phone. Feeling a little better now. Thanks for checking in. See you on Monday._  How is there anything wrong with that? It's completely generic."

"You used one of those stupid smileys at the end," she told him. "He's going to know it's not me. I never use those."

"Jesus." Oscar lifted a hand to cover his eyes. "You cannot be serious, Jane."

"I am serious," she maintained. "I  _never_ use them. Patterson downloaded them to my phone, but I hate them. I don't know how to take them off."

"Well—whatever. It doesn't matter. He probably won't even notice." Oscar checked his watch. "God, it's after three. He's probably  _asleep_."

Just then, her phone lit up again. They bent their heads together, peering at the message.

_Can I call you?_

Oscar snorted, passing the phone to her. "Your turn, Janie. Make it convincing."

She stood her ground as he ambled back to bed, too furious at herself and at Kurt to speak. What in the hell was he doing awake at 3 AM on a Friday? Pouring over case files, probably. God, she hated his work ethic. She hated how much he worried after her.

She hated how guilty she felt for lying to him so much.

She closed her eyes and drew in a deep, fortifying breath. There was no getting around this, so she simply bit the bullet and called.

* * *

Kurt answered on the first ring, the papers around him forgotten.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," Jane replied. She sounded tired, and he immediately regretted asking to call her so late.

"Sorry about this," he hurried to say. "I know it's really late—"

"It's okay," she interrupted. "I was awake."

He paused, listening. It was quiet wherever she was.

"How sick are you?" he asked. "Haven't been vomiting, have you?"

"Uh—a little bit. I think that part's passed, though."

"Fever?" He didn't like to think of her feverishly sick. She might be a grown woman, but she had a very short memory. He wasn't convinced she'd know how to take care of herself if she got really ill.

Jane sighed on the other end of the phone, as if she could read his thoughts and disapproved of them. He actually smiled a little.

"Kurt, I'm fine," she said. "I know I should've called yesterday to warn you all that I'd be taking the day off, but honestly… I just forgot. I'm sorry. I was trying to sleep it off and my phone was in the kitchen. I had it on silent so I never heard any of the rings."

"Makes sense," Kurt answered, even though it didn't, not really. Not for her.

He remembered one morning the year before, just two months into her stay at the FBI. Her train from Brooklyn had run into a minor delay, so she was going to be arriving at the Bureau later than usual. As it turned out, she was only five minutes late. She'd even beat Tasha to work that day. But still, she had called in beforehand, just to tell him not to expect her on time.

He wondered what had changed since then.

And privately, he wondered where she was. He knew she wasn't in the city. She couldn't be; her side of the call was much too silent. They'd been on the phone for over five minutes, and yet he hadn't heard anything from her end: not one siren, not one bit of honking traffic, not a single yell from drunken kids on the streets. Instead there was just her, and even she didn't make much noise. Her breaths were as silent as his, so he knew she must be lying about being sick, too. Briefly, he thought about asking, about demanding the truth from her, but he quickly decided against it.

She, of all people, should be allowed her secrets.

* * *

Oscar was still awake when she came back to bed.

"So?" he yawned, glancing her way. "What's the verdict? Is Weller going to send a whole army of feds our way? Or are you off the hook?"

Jane didn't say anything, but took her time settling back into bed. She laid her head on the pillow and faced Oscar.

"Kurt knows I'm lying," she whispered.

In the dark, she saw his eyes widen. "He  _said_  that to you?"

"No, no, but…" She chewed on her lower lip. "I could just tell. He was really quiet on the phone."

"Well, it is three AM, cut the guy some slack. Plus, he's never been that talkative to begin with, has he?"

"You know what I mean."

Oscar nodded. After a moment, he reached out for her hand, spreading their fingers so they could be folded together.

"What do you want to do?" he asked her quietly.

She thought for a minute, looking down at their entwined hands. She rubbed her thumb against his knuckles. Finally she looked back up at his face.

"I don't want to do anything different than what we're doing already," she told him. "I want us to enjoy this vacation. Enjoy this time together."

She didn't say the rest out loud, but they could both hear it:  _We might not have much more._

* * *

Jane woke up early the next morning, but didn't leave bed. She watched Oscar sleep for a little while, and thought about what they should do with their day. They'd done her favorite thing yesterday—hiking up to the lake—and she looked at him, wondering what his favorite thing would be. He had been awfully quiet on that point when they'd planned this trip, always intent on asking what  _she_  wanted to do, how  _she_ wanted to spend their time. She knew he was trying to make up for all the years of her life that had been stolen from her, and she loved how much he went out of his way to make her happy, but sometimes she wished he'd go out of his way to make  _himself_ happy too.

He rolled in his sleep, turning over from his stomach onto his back, and a thought came to her. If he wasn't going to do something just for himself, then she would.

It took him a couple minutes to pull himself out of sleep. She smiled, watching him twitch in his sleep as she touched him and kissed him and teased him with her breath. She wondered, as she knelt between his legs, just how long he'd had to wait for her to wake up the other morning. She wondered if he'd felt as impatient then as she felt now.

Eventually she had to squeeze one of his legs, digging her nails in a bit, in order to pull him from unconsciousness. He blinked at the ceiling, rousing slowly. He looked around, frowned when he saw she wasn't beside him in bed, and then stared when he saw she was crouched between his legs.

"Hey." He propped himself up on his elbows. "What are you doing down there?"

She grinned. "Are you really trying to tell me it's not obvious?"

"It's…" He broke off awkwardly, first staring at her, then at his waist, and then away. He was trying so hard not to be presumptuous that she burst out laughing.

"You're ridiculous," she told him. She reached up and pushed him down onto the mattress. "Now lie back," she instructed with a smile. "Relax."

"But—"

He started to protest, but she ignored him, and instead ducked her head down and ran her tongue along the length of him without warning.

"Fuck," he whispered when she closed her mouth over him. His hands, still at his sides, had closed into fists, and he was almost shaking in an effort to stay still. She had one hand wrapped around the base of him; the other was spread wide as it moved over his stomach, caressing. She could feel his abdomen, as hard beneath her fingertips as his erection was in her mouth, and she smiled to herself. She loved the way he tried to keep himself in check for her. Loved how strong he tried to be, even when she was demanding that he fall apart for her.

"I didn't ask for this," he whispered, as if in defense. "You know I didn't, I— _Fuck_ ," he swore again as she took him deeper. "Janie, please…"

He was nearly whining now, and she was all but vibrating with want for him. She tried squeezing her legs together, tried holding them apart, tried everything—but nothing made her stop wanting him. That was the bad part about going down on him: she always forgot just how much it turned her on. She thought about taking her free hand and slipping it between her legs so she could come with him… But no, she'd much rather have him inside her. It had been less than eight hours since they'd last made love, but already she needed him again. She felt like she'd always need him.

For now, she focused on him: on her mouth and her tongue and her teeth and the way he reacted to each. She focused on the way he breathed—hard out of his nose, like an animal, like a bull—and she focused on his muscles. She could see him straining to hold himself in place, straining not to overwhelm her.

When was he going to finally accept that she could take as good as she got, no matter the circumstances?

She bent over him with renewed efforts, and in minutes it paid off. His face was coloring from stress, from arousal, from anticipation. He could hardly talk for panting, but he did try to warn her.

"Jane—"

She didn't stop. She took him in as fully as he had her, and then she pulled away slowly. He was still breathing hard and now so was she. She smiled up at him, triumphant.

"Now we're square for the other morning," she announced, flopping down on the bed beside him.

"Square…" He was having trouble forming thoughts, let alone follow speech patterns.

She grinned, and bent over to kiss him deeply on the mouth. She let him taste himself, and her.

"For yesterday," she explained when they broke apart. "I never did get to pay you back for the other morning."

"I told you I didn't need payback."

"Exactly why I wanted to give it," she replied with a smile.

When he finally had enough feeling back in his body to turn on his side to face her, he was shaking his head.

"What?" She frowned. "Don't tell me it wasn't good.  _I know_ it was good. And no matter what you try to say, I know you wanted it."

"I did want it," he agreed. "And yes, obviously it was good. Better than good."

"So?"

"So you're a wonder," he answered, laying a hand on her hip and leaning over to kiss her. "Plain and simple."

"Are you gonna take this wonder down to breakfast anytime soon?"

"Mm, sure. After a shower."

She smiled mischievously, scooting closer to him. "You want some company in that shower?"

He glanced at her, his eyes falling from her face down the length of her naked body.

"I think that could be arranged…"

He trailed his hand from her hip to the top of her thighs, and then in between them.

"Damn it," he swore, feeling how wet she was already. His bent his head to hers. "Sorry," he mumbled, pressing a kiss to her forehead, "but you're going to have to give me a minute."

"That's okay," she whispered back. She reached down and covered his hand with hers, keeping it in place. "I know you're worth the wait."

* * *

They spent their second day at the B&B much like they had the first. They talked with the Liddles during breakfast, and chatted with the college girls before they headed off into town to shop. Oscar suggested maybe Jane might want to do the same—this area had a quaint little downtown, nothing like the city—but Jane shook her head. He threw out a couple inconsequential suggestions before wondering aloud if maybe there were more hiking trails they could explore. She took his hand with a smile, and off they went.

They didn't have a plan, but nor did they need one. They wandered and wandered until it was time to come back for lunch, and after lunch, the wandered some more. They got back from their second hiking session late in the afternoon; it was almost dark by the time they cleared the forest and stepped out into the field that abutted the front of the B&B. Thankfully dinner was waiting for them, and afterward, a shower. They snuck off as after-dinner drinks were being served, and when Jane glanced behind her, she could swear she saw their newfound friends exchanging glances with one another. She knew she should be embarrassed—they were the only young and spry couple staying here this weekend, so obviously they were also the only ones who were making the house creak at night—but she didn't feel embarrassed. She felt energized. And she spent a long time that night taking all that energy out on him.

They were totally out of breath after two rounds, covered in sweat on top of a messy bed that had been stripped of everything except the fitted sheet bound around its corners. She was exhausted, and so was he, but somehow he still had enough strength afterwards to hold her and kiss her and run his hands over her back. She smiled as she lay on top of him, wishing she had the energy to pay him that same attention.

At some point she fell asleep. When she woke up, still on top of him, he was asleep too. She smiled at his face in rest, careful not to move in case she woke him. Eventually she closed her eyes and fell back to sleep too.

When she next woke, it was to the sound of rustling covers. She opened her eyes, peering through the dark just in time to see him toss the comforter over her and their bed.

"Hey," she called softly, sitting up. "What're you doing?"

"Just cleaning up a little," he murmured, stooping to pick up the pillows they'd tossed onto the floor amidst their earlier frenzy. He smiled when he saw her eyes tracking him. "I'll be back in a second, don't worry."

"Not worried. Just waiting."

He smiled again, then tossed her one of the pillows to put behind her head. He deposited the other on his side of the bed, and then joined her again. She moved towards him automatically, and he wrapped an arm around her back. She was about to close her eyes to rest against him when she noticed him watching her.

"What?" she asked. There was a look in his eye she couldn't quite place. "What're you thinking about?"

He paused a moment. "Honestly?" he clarified.

"Honestly."

"Well… To be  _honest_ … All I'm thinking about is whether or not I can convince you to have sex with me a third time tonight."

She laughed. "Oh, I don't know…" She moved closer to him. "I think that can be arranged."

"It can be quick, if you want," he offered.

But she shook her head to say that wasn't necessary. "You don't need to be quick," she replied, kissing him.

He maneuvered her onto her back, and knelt above her. She could see that he was ready for her already, and she smiled.

"I love this about you," she whispered, looking up at his face.

"Love what?" he asked. He paused to grab a condom, and then lowered himself back down to her level, putting his mouth to her neck.

She closed her eyes. She could feel him hard against her stomach, could feel him making her body heat up from the inside.

"How much you want me still," she whispered. "How much…" Her voice shook and she closed her eyes tighter. She felt him remove his mouth from her neck. "How much you love me still, even after everything. Even after how I left. I don't know how you do it but I am... I am  _so_ grateful, Oscar."

"Hey." He reached a hand out, lifting her chin. He waited until she'd opened her eyes and looked at him. "I am  _always_ going to love you. Nothing you've ever done, or ever could do, is going to change that."

"I know," she whispered. Her throat was suddenly tight.

"Then why do you look like that?"

"Look like what?"

"Like you're going to cry."

"Damn it." She reached a hand up, cursing her traitorous eyes, but he held her still.

"Jane," he whispered. "Talk to me."

"It's just…" She blew out a breath. She could feel the tears pricking again, and she hated herself for it. She knew how hard it was for him to see her cry. "It's just, I feel like I'm not doing enough sometimes," she confessed, unable to look at him. "I feel like… like you do  _so much_ for me, and what do I give you in return?"

"Sex," he answered, attempting levity.

She shook her head, ignoring him. Finally, she made herself look up into his eyes. "You love me," she whispered, reaching up to hold his chin. "You've loved me through everything,  _despite_ everything. You tell me all the time. And I still… I mean—Oscar, you know it's still hard for me to be certain of things, since the wipe…"

"Hey," he cut in, understanding at once what she was trying to say. "Hey, hey, hey, come on. I don't need you to say it back. That's not what this is about, Jane, not at all. I just… Look, I'm sorry, it's natural for me to tell you I love you. I've been saying it for years and… and I guess it just slips out sometimes. I haven't meant to make you uncomfortable. If I have—Jane, I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize for it. Please don't. I love hearing you say it." She bit her lip. "I just want to be able to say it back, is all," she whispered.

"Maybe some day you will."

She reached for his hand. "You'll be patient with me?"

He smiled. "What other way is there to be with you?"

She made a face at him, but then lifted her head to kiss him. He kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her up into his lap. They spent a while like that, arms wrapped around each other, eschewing words in favor of touch. Some things were communicated better in silence.

* * *

The Knicks were up thirty points when the third quarter ended and the kid sitting next to Kurt at the bar had just bought him a beer in celebration. It was a good night, he thought to himself, foolishly believing that it would only get better.

Barely five minutes into the fourth quarter, Patterson disabused him of that notion.

He answered her call without taking his eyes off the game, and he when he heard what she had to say, he thought about brushing her off. It was  _Saturday night_ , after all—but she was so excited that she ended up making him more curious than he was angry. He tossed the kid sitting next to him a ten to pay for the round he wouldn't be able to share, and headed out into the night. He thought of walking, but he hadn't gotten more than two blocks before Patterson called him again, demanding to know what was taking him so long.

He grabbed a cab, noting the cost of the meter to remind her of later, and swiped himself into the elevator bank on the ground floor. The ride up to the twelfth floor was both too short and much too long.

"Buffalo!" Patterson yelled from her lab when she heard the elevator doors open. "The Fuller brothers are in Buffalo! Well, okay, technically, they're  _outside_  Buffalo, a little southwest, but generally they're—"

Kurt came around to the side of her desk, peering at the satellite map she'd pulled up. He noticed the blinking dot, and leaned closer to inspect it. He was trying not to let her excitement influence him, but it was hard to ignore. They'd been hunting these criminal siblings for well over a year, and they had made almost zero progress in that time. They weren't part of Jane's tattoos but they were as ghostly as many of her cases. Kurt hadn't been surprised when their lead from Friday morning hadn't panned out—leads rarely did when it came to the Fuller brothers—but he  _was_ surprised by this development. If he were a religious man, he might call this stroke of luck a miracle.

"How do we have such an exact location?" he wondered, unable to take his eyes off the screen. He was half-scared that if he looked away, this lead would disappear the same as all the others.

Patterson folded her arms with a self-satisfied smile. "Darren Fuller turned on his phone."

"His  _phone_?" Kurt's frowned deepened. This had to be a lie—or a trap. Those two had been strictly off the grid for a year and a half; that was the main reason why there had been so little traction on their case. "Guys like Darren don't just turn on cell phones that are being tracked for no reason."

"Maybe he was desperate," Patterson supplied. "Or maybe he needed to catch a Lyft. Who cares, we found him! Let's go!"

Kurt looked at the map again, zooming out this time. "Buffalo…" He shook his head, doing the math in his head. "That's a seven-hour drive at the least. The Fullers could be anywhere by the time we get there."

"But he only  _just_ turned on his phone. I got the alert and rushed right here; he hasn't moved since. We've been hunting these guys for ages—come on, we have to  _try_!"

Kurt weighed their options as quick as he could, and soon came to the same conclusion. Patterson was right. They'd been following these two forever, and this was the first concrete lead they'd had since those two had disappeared the winter before last. Apart from losing a whole night's sleep during a drive across the state, what was the harm in following it up?

"Fine," he sighed. Patterson whooped, and he held out a finger to stop her. "But we're not going anywhere just yet, got it? I need to talk to the local cops first; someone needs to confirm the Fullers' location, and that both of them are there are not just Darren."

"Um… I already did that."

He stared at her.

"Well—you were taking too long to get here!" she complained. "I was sitting here waiting for you to show up and, let's be real, I knew what your decision would be. I, ah, took the liberty of doing the legwork early."

Kurt shook his head. "Patterson, you're—"

"—the best, I know," she finished for him with a smile. "The locals confirmed their location ten minutes ago. I told them to stick strictly to surveillance—after last time, we don't need those two tearing through any more cops."

Kurt nodded, silently appreciative of Patterson's forethought. It truly would be a bad idea if those locals got anywhere near the Fullers. The last time one of the uniforms had tried to play hero, he'd taken an entire magazine to the chest. His fellows hadn't been much luckier.

"We'll need to bring body armor," Kurt told Patterson. "I won't have any of you taking a bullet from those two assholes."

Patterson nodded. "Agreed." She was already making the arrangements, sending alerts to the local cops of their impending arrival. He stood and watched her for a minute, making sure she didn't miss a single thing. He wouldn't let them make any more mistakes where the Fullers were concerned, not this time around.

"Anything else?" Patterson asked when she'd finally finished typing.

"Yes," Kurt replied. "One more thing." He couldn't help but smile now. "You ruined my weekend. Now you have to ruin Tasha and Reade's too."

The glee with which she began dialing numbers was almost diabolical.

* * *

They woke early on Sunday morning, but lay in bed for nearly an hour, resting together. They didn't talk about their conversation the previous night, but Oscar could tell Jane was still thinking about it. He only hoped she wasn't worrying.

After a while, when they heard the other guests moving about, they finally got up and got dressed. By the time they made it to the dining room, Mr. and Mrs. Liddle were just settling down to brunch, but Gina and Maria looked like they were on their way out. Jane looked at them in surprise; usually they were the last ones to meals, and often they missed anything that came before lunch.

"You two are up and about early."

"We've gotta get back," Gina explained, throwing her coat on. "Classes tomorrow."

Maria mimed hanging herself, and Jane nodded in commiseration, as if she understood.

"Well, it was really nice meeting both of you. I know Oscar and I—" She broke off, glancing over to him, but he wasn't paying attention. He was patting his pockets, looking for something. He started pulling open drawers and she stared, confused, until eventually he came up with a scrap of paper and a pen.

Jane glanced back at the girls, but they both shrugged, not having any idea what he was doing any more than she did.

"Here," he said finally, thrusting the piece of paper at Maria after having scribbled something on it. "If you're ever thinking of getting another tattoo and want a design, free of charge…"

Maria's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

"For real?" Gina asked.

"'Course." He nodded at the bit of paper the girls were now studying intently. "Just send an email with some specs, and I'll see what I can do."

Surprising no one but Oscar himself, they both rushed to hug him goodbye. They hugged Jane too, but not without asking for a picture.

"Is this just so you can prove all the outlandish stories you're going to tell about me?"

"Maybe," Maria snickered.

"Also for future tattoo inspiration," Gina added. "You're the queen."

Jane smiled at that, and hugged them again after they took the photo. She and Oscar followed them out onto the porch and waved goodbye as they drove off. Then they sat out there in two of the rocking chairs for a while, staring at the peaceful surroundings. It was looking to be a cool morning; the dew hadn't yet dried on the grass.

"We should probably get going soon too," Oscar said after a little while. "I know check-out isn't until the afternoon, but it might be good to get on the road…" He trailed off when he saw the look on Jane's face. "What?"

"We still have time," she reminded him. She reached over for his hand. "Want to take one last walk with me?"

He smiled, giving in at once. "Okay. One last. But we can't make it up to the lake."

"I don't need to make it to the lake. Just into the trees. I want to disappear for a bit."

"Disappearing sounds good," he agreed, and so they got to their feet, walking toward the forest hand in hand.

* * *

"I don't understand," Kurt repeated.

He spoke slowly, keeping his voice even, but he might as well have been screaming at the top of his lungs given the amount of sweat on the local police chief's forehead.

"Well, you see, sir, we apprehended one of the suspects—"

"They were right next to each other," Kurt interrupted. "How do you catch one without the other?"

"Well, ah, as you may or may not know, sir, Robbie Fuller used to be a track star. First in New York state when he was a high school senior, funnily enough. And from the look of him, he might still be first in the state now." The man tried for a smile, but Kurt didn't smile back. The man stopped smiling and continued quickly, "We're pulling in extra men for the search. We'll find him. He may have been a good runner at eighteen, but that was over a decade ago. We'll catch up to him."

The man peered up at the sky, then down at his watch. As if to reassure himself, he murmured, "We won't need to start worrying until it gets dark."

"You better start worrying before then," Kurt instructed him. "If I don't have Robbie Fuller in federal custody by the time that sun goes down, you'll have much bigger problems than one fugitive on the run, I can promise you that."

* * *

They ended up in the same clearing they'd passed through on the first day, the place that was littered with fallen trees from the last big storm. Jane pulled her hand out of Oscar's, wandering around the clearing until she found a log that looked dry enough to sit on. There was a patch of green moss growing next to her seat, and she reached a careful hand out, petting the soft, almost fuzzy surface as if it were precious.

Oscar smiled, watching her. "You don't want to go back, do you?"

"Go back where?"

"To the city."

She glanced away guiltily. "Is it that obvious?"

"Just a little bit," he smiled, taking a seat beside her. He ran a fingertip over the patch of moss between them. "But I don't blame you. It's beautiful here."

"Did we ever come here before?" Jane asked. "To this B&B, I mean."

Oscar shook his head. "No, never. This place is entirely new to me, too."

That made Jane smile. She glanced over at him. "Maybe we can make a little tradition," she proposed quietly. "We could come back next year."

"Mm." Oscar murmured in soft agreement. "We certainly could." He glanced up at her with a teasing smile. "You'll just need to remember to actually call in sick next time."

She elbowed him in the side, and he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. She rested her head against his shoulder, staring out at the green space around them. It was so real, so  _alive,_ she never wanted to stop watching it.

"I know we need to start walking back soon," she whispered, "but I'd like to sit here for a bit."

"Then sit," Oscar told her, pressing a kiss to her head. "I'll let you know when we have to start heading back out."

"So responsible."

He smiled into her hair, knowing he'd get another elbow in the side soon. "One of us has to be."

* * *

The man was running fast.

He was running so fast he could hardly breathe, but it didn't matter. He didn't know how long he'd been running, but that didn't matter, either. All that mattered was that his brother had stopped running miles ago, had fallen behind, and had been captured. He knew if he stopped, even for a moment, he'd be captured too.

So he didn't stop. And he didn't look back.

He couldn't hear the sirens anymore, hadn't heard them in what felt like a very long time, and he took that for a good sign. He didn't know how far away he was from the road, but he did know it was best to stay where he was: hidden under the canopy of trees, forever moving. The sun was high in the sky, but it would be falling soon, sooner than the cops expected. If he could just stay in the woods until nightfall, he'd be able to escape back into civilization easily. He could hitch a ride on the highway or make a call or lie low in a roadside motel… There were any number of ways he could outsmart the cops, but he didn't need to decide right now.

All he had to do now was run.

Run and run and never stop running. It was the only way to keep himself alive, and free.

* * *

Oscar heard the animal before he saw it. It was making a ruckus, and moving fast. He tensed as he heard it start to come near, trying to think of what it was. Were their predators in this area? Bears, maybe? Bobcats?

No, there couldn't be. Not here. They were barely an hour outside Buffalo; they might be in the woods but they weren't in the  _wilderness_.

But something was coming towards them. He could hear it breathing now.

He tapped Jane's shoulder. She'd fallen into a doze; when she lifted her head, he put a finger to his lips and got slowly to his feet. He grabbed a branch from the ground. It wasn't too big but he hoped, if needed, it could do some damage.

He tensed himself as the sound of snapping branches and heavy breathing came closer. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jane pick up a rock. They both waited, poised, for whatever animal was charging towards them. One second the forest was alive around then, and the next it broke open, a beast shattering out of the darkness of the trees. A beast that looked very much like—

A man.

For a second, the man skidded to a stop and froze at the sight of them, panting horrifically. He was tall and dirty; his clothes were covered in dirt; his shoes in mud. He had streaks of blood across his face and arms, likely from all the tree branches and bush boughs he'd run through.

They stared at the man and the man stared at them. And then suddenly he took off running again, veering wildly in another direction than the one he'd come from.

"What in the hell…"

Oscar turned to Jane, but she was busy scrambling in the pockets of her jacket, hunting for something.

He frowned at her sudden panic. "Jane? What's wrong? What are you—"

"No time," she told him, yanking her phone out of her pocket and tapping in three numbers in before shoving it to her ear. "We need to run."

"Run? What are you—"

"Run!" she screamed, pointing at the spot where the man had disappeared to. "Stop him!"

* * *

"There's been a sighting!" Patterson called out.

Kurt ran to her side, Reade and Tasha crowding in around him.

"911 dispatch gave coordinates to the locals already," Patterson assured them. "Squad cars are on the way. I should have the audio from the call, one second…" She clicked through a few windows on her laptop, and all at once the air in the conference room they'd commandeered was filled with the two women's voices.

_911, what's your emergency?_

_I just saw Robbie Fuller,_ a woman gasped. She sounded like she was in pain, and there was a loud of loud background noise. They all leaned closer to the computer to hear her better.  _He's somewhere in the vicinity of the Silver Creek Bed and Breakfast—_

"Silver Creek?" Tasha interrupted incredulously. "How in the hell did he get to Silver Creek? That's—" She turned to check the map on the table. "That's over six miles away from where his brother was caught barely a half-hour ago!"

Kurt shook his head, thinking of the local police chief. "Guy used to be a track star. Apparently he's kept up with his training."

With a signal from Kurt, Patterson rewound the tape, back to what they'd missed.

— _he's somewhere in the woods, running, but it looks like he's alone. There was no sign of his brother. I'm in pursuit of Robbie—_

"'In pursuit'?" Reade quoted. "Who is this woman, an off-duty?"

"No, can't be," Tasha argued. "You heard that police chief; he requisitioned everyone in the five nearest counties to help with the search. She can't be—"

"Play the tape over again," Kurt interrupted. He had a thought—a ridiculous thought—but he needed proof before he said it out loud.

Patterson did as asked. They all stood and listened, and by the time they call was over again, he knew he wasn't the only one thinking it.

"What the hell?" Tasha said. "She's supposed to be home sick!"

Kurt shook his head. "She's not."

"What, she got better in a day and now she's chasing down criminals single-handedly? While simultaneously alerting the cops?" Tasha sounded incredulous to the point of angry, and Kurt didn't blame her.

"She was never sick in the first place," Kurt told them, already moving to the door. "She lied, and it didn't matter before, but it does now. We have to find out why. Come on."

He headed out to the parking lot, and the team followed at his heels, peppering him with questions he ignored. He turned over the engine before they'd even all had a chance to strap their seatbelts on. Siren on, he sped the entire way to Silver Creek.

He found Jane there, as expected. And someone else, too.

* * *

"Great work, son," the local police lieutenant said for what had to be the fifteenth time. "Really great work. You've got a quick pair of feet on you, I'll tell you that. Between you and me—" He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "—we sure could use some more feet like yours on the force." He laughed loudly, as if this were some brilliant joke, and reached out for Oscar's hand once more. "Thanks again," he said, shaking it far too hard for far too long.

"It was nothing," Oscar muttered. It was the same thing he'd been saying for fifteen minutes.

"Ha!" The man turned to look at Jane. "Nothing, he says! If only you two knew how long we'd been looking for this guy…" He shook his head for a moment, commiserating with himself.

Then he let go of Oscar's hand, and headed to the door—but not without slapping him hard on the back in appreciation for his efforts.

"Great work, kid," was his parting praise as he headed to the front door of the B&B.

 _Ow,_ Oscar mouthed to Jane, who laughed from where she'd been waiting on the sitting room's couch. He slumped down next to her with a groan.

"This is so ridiculous," he muttered, rubbing the soreness out of his right hand from all the handshakes. "All I did was tackle the guy. You're the one who recognized him and called it in; you deserve all the credit."

"Trust me," she laughed, "I've seen what getting credit did to you, and I don't think I want any."

"You sure? I know it's every little girl's dream to have all her finger bones crushed by a—"

"Excuse me?" The receptionist poked her head into the sitting room, smiling nervously at them both. "There are some more people here to talk to you."

"God, more cops?" Oscar groaned. "The local lieutenant just finished trying to tear my hand off—"

"Oh, no, they're not local," the receptionist interrupted. "They're from Manhattan." She looked over her shoulder and then lowered her voice, scandalized and excited all at once: "They're part of  _the_   _F-B-I_ , can you believe that?"

* * *

When Kurt asked the B&B's receptionist if there was a Jane Doe staying there, she nodded at once, not at all taken aback by the name. When he said they needed to speak with her about the runaway fugitive she'd caught, the receptionist paused. She was still smiling, but there was confusion in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, are you saying you'd like to speak to Ms. Doe or Mr. Brenton?"

"Who?" Kurt frowned. Behind him, the rest of the team frowned, too.

"Mr. Brenton," the receptionist repeated. "He's the one who caught the criminal, not Ms. Doe." She pointed out the front door, bouncing a little on her feet. "He tackled him right out there in the front field!"

"I don't understand," Kurt said, for what he truly hoped was the last time today. "We got a call from Jane about Robbie Fuller while she was chasing him down. I need to speak to her about how she apprehended him." When the receptionist didn't look like she understood, he added impatiently, "Whoever the local cops talked to earlier, that's who I need to talk to. Now."

"Please excuse me, I'll see what I can do," the receptionist replied.

Kurt watched, dumbfounded, as the woman walked away from him and disappeared down one of the hallways.

"What is up with her?" Tasha muttered impatiently from behind him.

He didn't have an answer, and so he didn't say anything. He waited for the receptionist to come back, tapping his badge impatiently against the oak desk. He had no idea what Jane was doing here, and even less of an idea of why she'd run into Fuller, and he wanted his answers.

Finally, the receptionist reappeared again. Her polite smile was fixed in place as she gestured down a hallway.

"They're just through here," she explained, which didn't explain anything at all.

Kurt followed her directions anyway, the team at his heels as he headed down the hallway toward the back of the house. He ended up in a small sitting room, full of couches and armchairs and a currently unlit fireplace. For a minute, he didn't know what he was supposed to find in there until he turned his head and saw Jane. She was sitting on the couch closest to them, next to a tall man with a lot of thick brown hair. The man had mud on his shirt and jeans and even on his face. And he was holding Jane's hand.

* * *

For a minute, no one said anything.

They all stared at each other, foreign factions sizing one another up, adjusting to new realities and shifting boundaries. Finally, because it didn't look like Kurt or any of the team was going to say anything, Jane cleared her throat.

"Do you, um, do you need to interview us separately or together?"

Again, no one spoke. Jane felt uncomfortable under so many intense stares, and searched desperately for a friendly face. There wasn't one to be found beneath all the shock until Reade broke away from the group.

"We can interview you together," he said. And then, when it was clear none of the others were going to move, he added, "Is there somewhere private we can go?"

Jane nodded at once, getting to her feet. She tried to ignore the way everyone's eyes seemed to follow her hand that held Oscar's. "Just through here," she pointed, leading them towards the dining room. It had two large double doors, and Jane didn't breathe until Reade had closed them both tight behind them.

Reade sat down on one side of the table, Jane and Oscar on the other. He took out his phone, a pad of paper, and a pen. After gaining their permission, he set his phone to record the audio of their session. They each introduced themselves for the record. Reade asked them the general litany of questions: When did you see the suspect? Where did you see him? What actions did you take?

Jane answered as much as she could; she answered even the questions Oscar could've answered himself. More than a couple times, Reade had to interrupt her to ask that she allow Mr. Brenton to say things in his own words. It was hard for her to keep silent during those times. Underneath the table, she could feel Oscar's hand resting on her leg, trying to calm her. It didn't help. She was scared and she wanted to protect him. The less they had of him on official Bureau records, the better.

"Wait, is that it?" Jane asked, surprised, when Reade shut off his phone after barely a quarter of an hour.

"That's it," he replied. He spared her a brief smile. "Pretty painless, see?"

Jane nodded. She knew he'd interviewed them quickly and impersonally on purpose. He could've asked them any number of questions: what were they doing at this bed and breakfast? When had they checked in? How did they know each other? How long had they been together? How had they met?

But instead he had asked only the questions that were pertinent to the case. She was so grateful she could've hugged him.

But instead she just whispered, "Thank you, Reade," as he got to his feet.

He nodded once before making his way to the door.

Jane slumped in her chair the moment he was gone, drained. The interview had taken more out of her than the foot chase had.

But she knew she had more ground in front of her to cover.

She glanced at Oscar anxiously. "Do you mind if I—"

He tipped his head to the door before she could get the rest of the words out. "Go on. Clear the air."

She squeezed his hand in thanks before getting up and heading to the door. She looked back, and saw him smiling at her encouragingly when she hesitated. Somehow she managed smiled back, and then she disappeared.

She went to the sitting room first, but team seemed to have abandoned it. She went to the front hall, checked the porch. Nothing. She stepped down onto the front walk, heard voices, and followed them around to the side of the house where the SUV was parked.

The team was standing there, circled around each other, looking as whole as she always imagined they had been before she'd come around. For a minute, she lingered in the distance, not sure if she was allowed to join in. It was a strange, uncomfortable feeling. She didn't like not knowing if she was still a part of the only group she'd ever belonged to.

"Jane said she knew nothing about Fuller's whereabouts before he ran into them out in the woods. Ditto for the boyfriend. He didn't even recognize the guy; Jane just told him to run him down, so he ran him down." Reade paused, eyed his boss. "Look, Weller, I know you hate coincidences, but this really seems like  _just a coincidence_."

Kurt made an unhappy sound in the back of his throat. Jane almost smiled. He was always too skeptical for coincidences, and usually he was right to be.

"You said yourself she was lying about being sick," Tasha pointed out. "From what it looks like to me, they came up here to have a secret little weekend away together. Fuller just happened to run their way, and we just happened to be following him."

Kurt made a slightly less unhappy sound in the back of his throat.

"I still don't understand why we were drawn up here," he muttered, staring around. "I mean,  _why_ would those two idiots use one of their cell phones  _the very weekend_  Jane's staying up here? It doesn't make any—What?" he asked, noticing the smile on Patterson's face.

"I figured that part out," she announced proudly.

"You did? How?"

"Simple," she answered. "Today's Mother's Day." She laughed at the look on his face. "Those two mama's boys were calling their mother the night before, just to wish her a happy Mother's Day. That's why they stayed on the phone so long, why I was able to trace  _that_  call but not any others."

"But Mother's Day is always on a Sunday. Why didn't they wait to call until today?"

"Wait, you weren't briefed yet?" It was Tasha now, as excited as Patterson to know something their boss didn't. "They were moving a shipment today. Uniforms just caught the trucks across the state line, and it even looked like all the cocaine was still in place. My guess is, they knew better than to dare use their cells on the day of the move. And—I'm just guessing here—but it seems like their mother is the type that you'd want to call early rather than late."

Kurt didn't say anything for a minute, but instead stood and thought.

"I'm going to need confirmation on all these guesses," he said finally.

The others smiled at him.

"Lucky for you," Tasha said, "you've got two suspects in custody you can begin interrogating at any time."

For the first time all day, Kurt actually smiled. "That's true," he said, and then he laughed, like he couldn't quite believe it. It  _was_  hard to believe. Years of searching and searching and searching… And now, in one afternoon, they had both Fuller brothers in custody. Not to mention they'd confiscated hundreds of pounds of cocaine.

"I think we should celebrate," Patterson declared, reading his mind. She tilted her head back, looking up at the house. "How much do you think a bed and breakfast charges for a gin and tonic?"

Reade laughed. "Far too much, would be my guess."

"Then it's a good thing you're paying," Tasha replied, linking her arm through his. With a roll of his eyes, Reade let himself be led away towards the entrance, Patterson following after them. Jane ducked out of sight, behind the SUV, as they passed by. She watched them leave and noticed without surprise that Kurt didn't follow them. She knew he always needed time after a case to decompress by himself.

She peeked around the corner of the SUV and saw that he was still where they'd left him—standing near the far side of the house, his back to where she was standing at the front. Jane looked at him and felt the sudden urge to sneak away, to leave all the important things unspoken and go back inside with the others. But she could hear Oscar's voice echoing in her head— _Go on. Clear the air._ —and she knew she had to do this.

"Hey," she called out, and Kurt turned.

"Hey yourself." He smiled at her for a moment before looking away, as if he wasn't allowed to anymore. He cleared his throat. "How'd the interview go?" he asked. "Reade didn't push you too hard?"

"He barely pushed at all," Jane replied, coming to stand next to him.

They lingered there awkwardly for a moment, not quite close, not quite apart.

Finally, she made herself say the words.

"Look, Kurt, I should explain. I'm sure you've got questions after seeing me with—"

"We really don't have to have this conversation," he interrupted.

She looked up at him. "Don't we?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head and turned away. "Jane, I have no business poking my nose into your personal life."

"That isn't exactly true."

Kurt looked over.

"Well, it's  _not_ ," Jane continued. "I mean, I lied to you guys. Especially to you. I lied right to your face the other night."

"My ear, technically."

"You know what I mean! I lied to you and I've been lying for months and… and…" She rubbed a hand over her forehead, as if to force the thoughts away—or force them to come out. "I should've just told the truth," she whispered. "When he and I started dating, I should've said something. I should've just put it out there, because at least then we'd never have to be in this awkward position."

"We were always going to be in this awkward position," he said softly. "But that's my fault, not yours, so don't try to apologize."

She bit her tongue. She wanted so badly to reach out to him, but she doubted that would make things any easier. "I am sorry, though, Kurt. This is the last way I ever wanted you finding out about him, in front of everyone like that."

He shook his head, pushing aside her apologies. For a minute, he looked away, stared out at the trees.

"What was the first way?" he asked finally.

"What?"

"What was the first way you wanted me to find out about him?" He turned back to meet her confused gaze. Against all logic, he was smiling. "C'mon," he prodded. "Tell me what the ideal situation is where I find out you've got a boyfriend."

She'd been dating Oscar for over half a year, and yet somehow hearing Kurt call him her  _boyfriend_ made her blush. It was her turn to look away.

"Oh, I don't know," she muttered, embarrassed.

"Yes, you do," he pressed. "I know you do."

She blew out a breath, annoyed and guilty all at once. She searched her mind, her memory. She thought about her heart, and the things that would make it happy.

"In my ideal situation, you would've just…  _known_. Maybe you saw us together on the street or… or outside my apartment. Maybe we were at the same restaurant, or the same park. Something. You would've just seen us, and… and by the time we turned and saw you, you would've understood somehow."

"Understood what? That you're together?"

"That we're together." Jane nodded. "That I'm happy with him. That he makes my life easier and fun and… and more than just  _living_. He gives me something to hope for. Something to plan for." She looked down, wrapping her arms around herself. "You don't know what it was like, to be as alone as I was after I came out of that bag," she whispered. "For months and months, I had nothing that was my own. No memories, no family, no friends. I didn't even have a  _name_."

Kurt didn't say anything, but she could read his silence. She could sense the argument he wasn't allowing himself to make.

"And I know it's different now," she agreed. "I know I have those things—some of them, at least. And I am grateful to all of you—to  _you_ , Kurt—for giving them to me. But…" She trailed off, unable to find the words.

"But sometimes you just need more," he finished, finding them for her.

She nodded, feeling a rush of affection for him. He didn't speak much, but when he did, he somehow knew exactly what to say.

"So." He cleared his throat after a moment, shifting his weight so they were standing face to face. "Are you ever going to actually introduce us or what?"

Jane stared, her mouth falling open. "You… You mean you  _want_ to meet him?"

"'Course I do. Hell, I kind of want to hire him at this point." At the look on Jane's face, he grinned, and started walking towards the front of the B&B. Over his shoulder, he called, "That boyfriend of yours did your whole job for you today, if you didn't notice. Don't go thinking I'll forget that."

"He didn't do my  _whole_ job," Jane argued, rushing to catch up with him. " _I_ was the one who recognized Fuller, if you recall.  _I_ was the one who called it in."

"Yeah, but you didn't stop him, did you?"

"Have you seen that guy  _run_ , Weller? He was impossible to keep up with." She shook her head, remembering how fast he'd streaked through the woods and out into that field. "He should quit dealing cocaine and become an Olympic athlete; I think he'd have a shot at the gold."

Kurt laughed. "A little too late for a career change, I think." He looked over at her as they reached the porch. "That's thanks to you—and on your day off, no less. Trust me, I won't go forgetting  _that_ , either," he added with a smile.

Jane smiled back, and followed him inside. It wasn't hard to find the team—they just followed the noise back into the sitting room, and found them all celebrating, as promised, with a drink in hand. Tasha even had two.

"There she is!" Patterson called joyously. "Woman of the hour!"

Jane smiled at her, and all the rest, but she didn't really see them. Oscar had stood up the moment Jane and Kurt had come in, and he was lingering by his chair, waiting for a sign. Jane smiled at him to let him know things were okay. In fact, they were far better than okay.

By the time they reached him, Oscar seemed to have gotten over the police lieutenant's overzealous handshake. When Jane introduced them, he shook Kurt's hand firmly and without hesitation. He did, however, balk at an offer to join the FBI.

* * *

**_A/N_ ** _: Thank you for reading! I know this one was insanely long, but if you've managed to get to the end, I would LOVE to hear your thoughts on the story! :)_


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